Keeping Score
by Ellsie Kai
Summary: Billie is a Slayer. Plain and simple, for the past four years she has thought of herself as nothing else. She's helped close a Hellmouth but now she has another duty with something old and something new attached to it. Takes place after season 7.
1. New In Town

The best part of being "undercover" for Billie was the part when she had to act like she was just another girl. Her earbuds played some Justin Timberlake song and her eyes innocently looked around. Not only was she trying to fool herself. Unfortunately, she was smarter than she gave herself credit for. The objects hidden under her beautiful suede jacket made sure she didn't forget, even for a second.

Billie Edith was a Vampire Slayer, her weapons were concealed but she was who she was. The girl didn't hate being the Slayer, after all that she'd seen and been through she wouldn't allow herself, but that didn't mean she couldn't hope for something else. After all, wasn't that every woman's God-given right?

If not, God was getting a lot of credit for something he had nothing to do with. Billie didn't care who was responsible for it, as long as she could continue doing it she didn't care at all.

A gust of wind hit her, waking the twenty year old from her stuper. Looking around her, it became clear to Billie that her head had nothing to do with with walking, her feet had carried her to Giovaneli Street all by themselves. The very street she'd been looking for. In her research, she'd learned that this street was a hot spot for a particular dangerous, anonymous assailant. An assailant who left a body, the only injury: a pair of teeny tiny dots on the neck. Thanks to the brand new Watcher's Council and their insiders, she'd learned of the mysteries marks even when the local new did not.

Vampires.

The undead creatures of the night that walk this Earth like a plague. The things that many thought was the workings of Bram Stoker's imagination. No such luck. But what escaped Stoker's mental reach was the fact that Billie could see that this was nothing special, just another vampire.

_Just a vampire?_,she thought. _Oh, wow, I bet ten years ago that wouldn't have been in my dictionary of sentences. Wait, dictionary of sentences? What is that? Did I just make it up? Oh, right, vampires._

Billie's thoughts travelled back to the world in front of her, more precisely, the street. Giovaneli was nothing special. An apartment building sat on the corner, a gas station across the street, then a few small businesses (a laundromat, a deli, an insurance salesman, etc) with apartment above. But, of course, what would a street be without an alleyway behind the apartment building?

Quietly making her way to the head of the alley, Billie realized her tan jacket, though beautiful, wasn't exactly idle for being invisible in a dark alley. Shrugging the thought away, she removed the earbuds and strained her eyes for any sounds coming from the area.

Sure enough, a strangled yelp was carried on the wind. Billie was sure that to a "normal" person the noise would be passed off as an animal of some sort. A Slayer knew better. _You gotta love this job's perks, _she smiled. Her right hand reached inside her jacket. Her fingers felt the cool smooth surface of the wooden object and she quietly mourned her usual weapon of choice, the aptly named _my_ weapon. But she knew why it was tucked securely in her bag and not within arm's reach, she'd seen way too much to use it on a run-of-the-mill vampire. And the fact that it was a knife and carrying without a purpose wasn't a fantastic idea.

Still clutching the stake hidden inside her jacket, Billie still held the earbuds in her left hand. Quietly, the Slayer stepped into the alley and confirmed her beliefs. Not twenty feet from where she now stood, a man kicking, trying to ward off an attacker. And by the looks of it, a female attacker. Her long auburn hair was curled down her back and her legs were covered with the checkers of fishnet stockings.

Billie couldn't help but be amused, _I guess Girl Power has hit the afterlife._

Billie walked in closer, the attacker and her victim only ten feet away, and cleared her throat. "Excuse me? Is there a problem here?"

As if the sense she had picked up two blocks down on Blatz Street wasn't enough, the revealing of the attacker's face was the proof she needed. The deformed bridge of her nose forced up her upper lip to rise, showing a row of yellow-ish-red jagged fangs, two of which protruded out of the mouth. The vampire glared at Billie with her yellow eyes and a memory flashed within Billie's mind. _Monster_, the thought came with a vengeful hiss.

Swallowing down the passionate hatred and pushing the memory away, Billie took another step forward and saw that the man chosen as dinner, or breakfast, depending on how long the she-vamp had been hunting, had blood smeared on his neck. Eyes wide and innocent, the Slayer said, "Oh no, he's bleeding. Do you need an ambulance?"

The she-vamp hissed through her fangs, Get out of here or you'll need two ambulances." The she-vamp still had her hands on the man's shirt but her no longer looked petrified, he looked hopeful with aside of terror and a dash of confusion.

Billie put her earbuds into her pocket and said, "See, if you were smart you would've said something like 'Screw the ambulance, call the morgue'. But I suppose not all of the dead have a lifetime of knowledge."

Now confusion jumped onto the she-vamp's screwed up features. "I thought I told you to leave."

"You did, but were I to do that I couldn't do my job and my boss would have my ass. And trust me, when your boss is THE Slayer it's all literal. You do not want her mad at you."

Throwing the man onto the ground with a thump of the head, the vampire turned to Billie. At full height, the she-vamp stood roughly five nine, making Billie's five feet and five inches and obstacle. With skin the color of sand, the creature in front of the Slayer reminded her of the beach she visited in Australia. Unfortunately, this didn't seem like the event that would end with Billie sipping iced tea while she watched the people around her frolic. Or maybe it would, stranger things had happened in her life.

Without another word, the she-vamp leaped at Billie. Using her training, Billie let go of her stake grabbed onto the vampire as she came into arm's reach. She used the momentum to guide them into a tumble that wouldn't result in cracked ribs, at least on her part. Up before her opponent could regain her footing, the Slayer's stake was out and held high. Billie knew how to use her stake, it might not have been _my_ weapon but for a simple vampire anything more would have been a waste.

Lifting her left leg, with her rubber sole as it's wearer came at her again. The kick drove the she-vamp to the ground, right beside her original victim , unconscious from the fall. Billie bent on one knee to meet the creature, stake placed firmly against her chest so that any move would spell 'the end'. Before driving the stake through the she-vamp's unbeating heart, she looked into her eyes, "Before I kill you I want to say one thing. Thanks for the welcome gift, but a fruit basket has a better pizzazz." With that, she leaned all of her weight onto the stake, into the vampire's chest turning it into the dust it was made of.

Sticking the stake back in her jacket, Billie moved to the man. His neck was still bleeding but he hadn't lost too much blood yet. She shook him enough to cause real damage, she said as he awoke, "You're going to be okay but you might want to get to the hospital."

Dazed, the man blinked back his possible concussion as she got to her feet. Quietly,the man spoke, "Who, who are you?"

Billie shrugged and wiped off her knees, "I'm new in town." She turned to the alley's opening and started out, placing the earbuds back in her ears. _Damn_, she thought. _I missed my favorite song._


	2. The Sutherland Hotel

As soon as she walked through the doors, Anson knew who she was. Though the photo he'd ben given showed a mere shadow of this woman, there was no mistaking the confidence and strength that made Anson feel smaller by the second. He felt his chest tighten in nervousness but his breath came strangely normal and he didn't feel the folder he was holding dampen in his grasp. Perhaps he could actually do this.

With every step Wilhemida Edith took, Anson felt her presence even more. And still he couldn't figure out why. He'd been in the presence of Slayers before and though every one of them had their own story, this Slayer seemed to Anson to be one of the most unique.

Could that be why she made him feel so insignificant? Was her background so interesting that it captured him in the way a good book would? It was as if he was seeing a fictional character that had leaped off of it's pages walking towards him. _Though_, he supposed, _that's what it would feel like if you were to read all about a person's life only hours before meeting them._

Taking a breath in hopes of releasing the clamp on his chest, he walked forward to close the space between him and Wilhemida. Raising his hand to offer a shake, he said, "Miss Wilhemida Edith."

She took his hand and gave it a quick squeeze. "Mr Anson Tea, I presume? Anmd please, it's Billie." Though dark circles appeared under her eyes, her smile brightened her face. Anson couldn't tell if it had been forced, since entering this world of Slayers he'd learned that most of the time a Slayer would hide their true emotions with a forced smile. But with Billie, either she was a fantastic actress or she was truly happy to be there.

"Mr Tea, did my bags arrive earlier?" Billie asked as she dropped his hand, putting her own in her jeans pocket.

Anson replaced his own hand onto the folder he was holding. "First off, you call call me Anson. Second, your bags did arrive and are in your room. Though I have to say, I was pretty unnerved when they showed up, not accompanied by their owner."

A small laugh escaped her lips, "Yea, about that. I needed to run a little.. errand." The tone her voice told Anson what kind of "errand" a Slayer, new in town, would have to run.

Leaning to her height,the man whispered, "Was it the kind of errand that should've been run by me first?" Anson hated that his voice wavered, he needed to appoint himself some authority and a statement that sounded like it came from a high school boy asking a girl out for the first time didn't seem like it would do it.

Billie leaned into Anson, as well, "That depends."

"On what?"

"On whether you turn out to be my Watcher or a pain in my ass."

Anson was in awe of Billie, not only was she ten years younger and stronger than he'd ever hope to be, this girl's voice was as steady as a rock. She leaned back, standing straight and smoothing her jacket. "My room?"

Anson cleared his throat, "Um, yes. That would be this way." He turned toward the elevator and started walking, feeling Billie fall into step behind him. Taking in a deep breath to calm his nerves, the nerves a twenty year old riled up, he tried to reassure himself that he was in charge. This wasn't England, he was not the new, young Watcher-In-Training. He was Anson Tea, Watcher of the Slayer.

The two waited under a minute for the elevator and, when it arrived, Anson knew proving his authority would take time. Billie entered first, held the door for him, and asked him the floor number.

Anson could tell that Billie was used to being either alone and in charge or surrounded by other Slayers. But as one of the Chosen Ones, how could she not? But being set up with a Watcher for herself would mean changes she would have to adapt to. He had ten years on her and a Masters in Psychology from Oxford, Anson knew he would be able to crack this girl. Slayer or not.

Clearing his throat again, the new Watcher broke the silence that filled the metal box as it rose up the seven stories to the correct floor. He opened the folder and began the small speech he'd prepared, "So, Billie, I've been reading the file that the Watcher's Council sent over to me. I have to say it's very interesting.. I suppose a Watcher could have gotten worse his first time out. Those who made contributions on your behalf, Mr Giles, Mr Wells, Miss Summers, and Miss Rosenberg, to name a few, really had some things to say. They seem to respect you very highly. And with all that you've been through, I can understand why. I mean, with what happened in Bos--"

"I'm sorry," Billie stopped him. "I know you're just doing your job but I just got in from a fourteen hour flight. And," she peered at her watch, "it's already tomorrow afternoon in my head without any sleep. So do you mind if we save this little trip down Memory Lane for another time?'

Anson nodded silently and closed the folder. He hadn't yet spent ten minutes with Billie and his discontent was starting to boil over. With his jaw clenched, the man looked up at the numbers. _Five_, he thought, _still two more floors of this awkward silence_.

"Oh!" Billie exclaimed, as if battling the silence looming overhead. Anson turned to her and urged her to expand on her one word exclamation. She complied, "Willow, uh, Miss Rosenberg. She said that you had received all of the files."

"Oh yea. I had them put in your room." He shrugged, "I figured you could use it as bedside reading."

The girl smiled at him, once again causing him to question her genuineness. "Thank you," she said simply as the doors _dinged_ open. Billie gestured for Anson to go first, feeling that an elevator wasn't the best place for a battle of stubbornness, he complied with her gesture. Billie followed. He turned left and started down the hall, leading his guest to her room.

They came to a stop outside room 713 and withdrew a keycard from his jacket. Unlocking it, he stepped aside and let Billie enter her room.

The room was beautiful, just as all the rooms of the Sutherland Hotel. The view of Billie standing in the entrance hall would make any hotel manager proud. Unfortunately, it was wasted on Anson, he wasn't a hotel manager at heart, he was merely an unemployed Watcher. All he saw was a girl, wide eyed and young, in another temporary home who could still be surprised. Anson placed two key cards on the table beside the door. "Billie?" She turned to him, eyes still wide. "I'd like to meet with you tomorrow before you are set to leave."

Nodding, Billie answered in a small voice, "Yes, yes, of course. I wake up at six thirty but I'm usually not ready to meet people until nine."

"There's no need to try to impress me, Billie," Anson laughed. "No twenty year old is up at dawn, I'm thinking eleven is more typical for your age."

Billie shrugged her response, "Maybe you haven't noticed yet, but I'm not just another twenty year old."

Without another word, Anson left. Before he shut the door behind him, he mumbled to himself, "I'm picking up on that."

"What was that?"

Pushing the door open once more, Anson saw Billie standing there, waiting for his answer. At that moment he cursed the Slayer's spectacular hearing and her superiority complex. Anson smiled and said, "I said, Welcome to Cleveland." This time there was no wondering if Billie's smile was real or not. She was not happy to be there.


	3. The Sun and The Run

_Rises in the East, sets in the West_. Wherever she was in the world that saying always remained true. To Billie, it seemed, the only thing. With the sun very much in the East, she knew it couldn't be past eight AM yet. She'd only been out for an hour but with previous days catching up to her she was already yearning for a nice hot bath back at the hotel.

The Slayer had been running for almost forty-five minutes without so much as a red light, so now that the Sutherland Hotel could be seen from where she was, she slowed to a brisk jog. Looking around her, Billie couldn't help but smile at the song her earbuds were blasting. "Holiday" by Green Day seemed to sum up her current surroundings. This was her holiday, or what the Watcher's Council called a holiday, to her, it was all a sham. She was atop another Hellmouth and yet she was staying at a five star hotel and taking a nice, early morning run. It was nothing like Sunnydale, _And it never will be_, she vowed, ripping the earbuds out as she stepped onto the curb of the hotel's block.

Billie had poured over the files the Watcher's Council had sent to her for over three hours after she had gotten herself settled in. All she thought as she read the words of Watchers and Slayers alike, was of her past Hellmouth experiences and _my_ weapon that she's placed under her mattress. As long as she had something to di with it, Cleveland would not become another crater in the United States road map.

Unlike Anson Tea's suggestion when she'd inquired about the files the night before, Billie could not use those files as "bed side reading", it was work. Work that made Billie all too ready to get up and out when the clock turned to six-thirty AM, sounding a few beeps that would barely wake a newborn. But it was good enough for her.

Dressed before the snooze button would've been hit for a second time, Billie left the hotel for her run. It was something she'd done for almost as long as she was the Slayer and even a change of scenery couldn't break the habit. _The sun and my run, the only things that remain the same_, she thought happily.

Her i-Pod, her key(card), a bottle of water, her phone, and a dagger hidden in her sneaker. It wasn't until she hit her three mile point that she realized there was something she should have had. Something every runner, Billie or other, needed.

Rest.

A combination of lack of sleep, severe physical activity, and jet lag didn't pass over anyone, even a Slayer. Unfortunately, she was a Slayer with the stubbornness to prove it, it would take a lot more than a little sleepiness to break tradition.

Hopefully, after a quick shower, the girl would be able to sneak in a couple of z's before Anson phoned her room and summoned her down.

The automatic doors opened as she reached the front of the hotel. Entering the lobby, Billie could feel the same feelings as the night before. The idea of being put up in such a nice place for being a Slayer made the girl think of Sunnydale and the small house the Potentials had to share with Q.B. and the others. _QB, that still gets me_. A small smile crept over Billie's face as she made her way to the waiting elevator. Inside, she continued the thought. _I've never seen someone hate a nickname so much._

Q.B., Queen Buffy. It was a name some of the Slayers had come up with. After seeing Buffy Summers fight along side her pupils, they knew there was something special about her. She was the Woman among women, she was the Queen of the Slayers. Only she hated it. It was just like her, ever since Billie had known her, the woman was the most self-assured modest person that ever existed. She'd gone so far as forbidding the use of the term "Queen Buffy", but she had said nothing of Q.B..

And still, with a Queen, Billie could only see what they'd been given and compare it with what they had. They started with the potential and ended with the necessities to do good.

All thanks to one Mrs. Sarah Kerad-Daniels.

As her mind drifted toward thoughts of the woman, Billie entered her room. As beautiful as the night before, she decided to take a vacation from her thoughts. Dumping her i-Pod, her keycard, the water bottle,and her phone onto the bed, Billie began to strip off her clothes.

The first to go, her shoes, the sneakers that held the dagger. For Billie, to be rid of that dagger left a feeling of lack of security. She felt bare and vulnerable standing there in only a tee shirt and sweatpants. She was on top of the Hellmouth and she felt defenseless. It wasn't a feeling that she ever wanted to feel again.

Without another thought, the Slayer took _my_ weapon from under the mattress and went into the bathroom. She was going to have that nice warm shower, clear of any thoughts, even if she needed a weapon by her side to do so.

Looking at herself in the mirror, Billie was surprised that she still looked twenty. With all she'd been through in the past four and a half years, she was always amazed that the person looking back at her wasn't worn with age. She wasn't a child anymore but she wasn't worn out out yet, either, she was... she was twenty.

As she pulled a brush through her hair, Billie thought of the picture she'd seen in the folder Anson had been looking at in the elevator. It was of her when she was fifteen years old, a month after she'd become one of the Slayers. Trying to create a new and improved Watcher's Council, Rupert Giles decided that in depth profiles of all the Slayers was exactly what they needed. And personally, Billie couldn't agree more. Billie held the deepest respect for Giles from the moment he met her at baggage claim all those years ago. Not only was he smart and skilled, he was caring. He had even been fired from the Council years earlier for caring too much for his charge, Buffy. That never made sense to any of the new Slayers, Billie wasn't sure it made sense to Giles either.

During her studies, Billie found that all "files" of the past Slayers were written by the Council. The Council, in turn, treated every girl the same. Giles knew that each and every girl was different from the rest and each deserved their story to be told.

He'd sent his starter crew (Watchers-In-Training and Wiccas) to interview and capture each Slayer. Willow had interviewed Billie, so she knew that whatever she'd written in her profile was one hundred percent Billie Edith and not "just another Slayer". after all, when you've slept with one you realized they're not all the same. And that folder Anson held in his hands said it all.

Not only were the words that which, Billie knew, captured her, but so had the picture. At the time, the new Slayer was going through the five stages of the calling: terror, adrenaline, anger, denial, and acceptance. Each of the first four steps could've been seen in that one photograph. The innocent look of her long, dark hair and sad green eyes topping her teenager's athletic body still gave a hint of the darkness that she had seen but it wasn't what she saw in herself at twenty. Billie could only wonder what had been going through her mind at that very moment. She could only be certain that it was neither "Did I pass that test?" or "Does this crossbow match my purse?"

Still peering at herself in the mirror, Billie looked at the differences in her appearance between and now. They were the changes that would occur in any girl at that age, she'd cut her long hair short and added a dash of color to it, her eyes were now outlined in black as one of the Slayers decided all should do every morning, and her body was now that of a highly disciplined warrior.

Okay, that last part may not have been normal among college-aged girls, but the rest seemed to properly fall under the category. And yet Billie was confused. Why did she feel that the girl in the photo and the girl standing before her were two different people?

Just as Billie leaned closer to the mirror, looking for any signs of the fifteen year old she hoped was still there, the room's phone rang. Peering at her watch, she smiled. It was exactly nine o'clock, Anson was testing her.

She sprang from the bathroom to the phone. With a "morning glory" tone in her voice, Billie answered the phone, "Good morning! This is Room 713, how may I help you?"


	4. The Most Important Meal

"So how are the pancakes?"

Billie had a mouth full of sticky, fluffy heaven when Anson spoke. Wanting to enjoy the food as she ate, but knowing she shouldn't make him wait, she reluctantly swallowed. The run she had done a couple of hours ago had burned up more calories than she cared to think about and the heaping plate before her helped. When Billie's mouth finally became free of her pancakes she answered, "They're great. Exactly the way I like them: edible." Anson cracked a smile as Billie flashed her own. Unlike many of the Slayers she'd met, those who'd seen things as she had, she liked to smile. Those few second intervals made Billie remember that she was still human.

Taking a sip of her coffee, the girl sighed as she brought a memory to life. "I remember, after we left Sunnydale and we finally knew we could stop, we found this diner in the middle of nowhere. Now you have to imagine, like thirty people off a school bus, bloody and dirty, coming into this little rundown, family owned eatery. We must have looked like a couple dozen soldiers, fresh out of war. Little did the people know we actually were." A smile faded a little from her face as the war came to mind, but she continued, "One of the Potentials, well, Slayers, by that time, Kennedy, she was pretty well off. Financially, I mean. Anyway, she never left home without a credit card. Not even then. She treated us all to breakfast." Looking from her plate to Anson, "I have never tasted a better plate of pancakes."

She smiled again, the smell of the food in front of her bringing her back to Goode Eatin' Diner. On the opposite side of the table, Anson's face became serious. Looking at him, Billie couldn't help but feel a wave of pity come over her. He'd been trying since the night before to be her Watcher, and she really respected him for that, but Mr. Tea was having a little trouble taking the lead. This was all too clear in his face as he battled with something in the confides of his mind.

Anson didn't look like a Watcher, in fact when he'd been the one to greet her when she arrived at the hotel, Billie was thrown slightly. He couldn't have been more than thirty and his hair was at least two inches longer than all the other Watchers she'd met. Even if most of them were older, called out of retirement, Anson didn't look like one, nor did her carry himself like one.

Feeling the silence between them growing into an awkward one, Billie spoke again, "Anson, the room you set me up in is beautiful. Please send my thanks to Mrs. Kerad-Daniels?"

"Of course." Wiping his mouth though he hadn't eaten a bite of his omelette, Anson now spoke, "Have you have any contact with Mrs. Kerad-Daniels?"

"No," she answered, shaking her head. "When she visited Mr. Giles and the Watcher's Council I was actually in Australia with a few of the other Slayers. I've never had the pleasure of coming face-to-face, though I've read her file about a dozen times. It's amazing."

"Oh, yea, called as a Potential Slayer at fourteen, kept training with her Watcher until she was thirty, when she decided to live a normal life, then at age fourty-nine called as one of the Slayers. It's quite a story, huh?"

"Don't forget the bank account." Billie pointed out. "What was it? Half a paycheck since 1972 went into a special account?"

Anson swallowed a mouth full of orange juice as he nodded. "Yea, she figured if she were to ever be called she'd need some money. She didn't even stop when she thought she was never going to be called. Force of habit, I guess." Shaking his head, he looked up at Billie, "Lucky for us she decided to donate that money to you girls."

Billie let out a small laugh. "Thirty-one years of money, just given to the Slayers. She must really care about what we do."

The cup in front of his face didn't keep Billie from hearing the doubt in Anson's voice. "Don't you?"

Knowing where Anson wanted to take this conversation and not feeling ready for it, Billie steered it in another direction. "Of course. I just meant, with all the Slayers I've met, there's plenty who want nothing to do with their calling and have simply walked away."

"Oh."

His answer was barely above a whisper and Billie just wanted to slap him. She wanted to find out if he would stand up for himself then.

Anson coughed, a little tick that all Watchers seemed to have, and spoke up. "Can I ask you a something?" He was trying, Billie had to give him credit for that, even if he didn't give himself.

"Sure," she answered, finishing her breakfast.

"What exactly happened in Boston?"

Billie nearly chocked on her last forkful of pancakes. She'd figured he would ask her about her past having spent the beginning of their meal talking of his own entrance into the world of Slayers, but she hadn't been prepared for this. She was set to talk about what happened in Sunnydale and the Hellmouth, but not this. It was so straight forward that Billie wondered if he'd been snatched by body invaders before her very eyes.

Calming down from the initial shock of the question, the Slayer spoke, "I'm sorry. You said last night that you had read my file. I figured you knew all about me."

"Well, I read what you had told Mr. Giles and Miss. Rosenberg. It's just that I want to know what really happened, not what you scripted for your file."

She was insulted, but she was the Slayer, she would not back down. "I'm sorry, Anson. What happened in Boston should not be important to you or why I'm here." Ignoring her opponent as he tried to speak, Billie continued, "And for the record, what I told Giles and Willow is what I felt comfortable telling them and I faced death with them. What do you think I would feel comfortable telling you, Mr. Tea?"

The man was silent, Billie knew she should have felt sorry for what she had said to the man, after all he was just doing his job, but she wasn't. Had he eased into the question, been sensible about the topic, perhaps Billie would've been easier on him, but he wasn't and that was pretty clear. She figured Anson to be sensitive, being a Watcher under Giles, but she was beginning to realize assumptions were rarely right. In that case, she would have to get him into that Watcher mind-set, even if that meant stomping over some of his tries to establish his authority if he crossed the line.

Anson was still speechless as she stood from the table. Picking up her purse and adjusting the olive green sweater she was wearing, the Slayer spoke, "I don't know about you, Anson, but I'm ready to get out of here." She began to walk out of the hotel's restaurant, listening to her partner stumble to his feet.

Billie stopped outside the hotel and waited for Anson to catch up. He did so, pulling on the black blazer he had to pull his business casual look. To herself, Billie had to admit that with the blazer over a gray sweater and sneakers he looked more like a Giles-Watcher than a Quentin Travers-Watcher. It was also sort of clear why fellow Slayer Vi was jealous, Anson's good looks were that of a movie-acting hotel manager, not the phony-acting hotel manager that he was.

He slid on his sunglasses, a la David Caruso, and started toward the row of staff vehicles. Looking at them, Billie felt a pang of envy. The cars were of the shiny sort and she knew that that entitled money and a job. Billie Edith would never be a working girl.

Contrary to popular belief, that statement wasn't true due to the fact she was a Slayer. In fact, the new Watcher regime encouraged education and careers for their girls, even if it might be an underhanded attempt at funding the Council. The reason this particular Slayer would not be a career woman in the foreseeable future was because she didn't see the point. Why strive for a mediocre life when everything could end tomorrow. That became clear during her two months at college, when, on the day of her midterm, she was unconscious in a sewage drain. So she fought. She was one to help everyone else live for the life they were building.

The life that bought cars like them. Including the seven passenger forest green van Anson was unlocking. Letting herself into the passenger side door, Billie tried to ignore the thoughts that roamed her head.

She was a Slayer, that had to be good enough for her, she'd promised.

Getting behind the wheel, her Watcher looked at her. "Ready to work?"  
"You have no idea."


	5. Time for Work

Both had been quiet the entire car ride. Billie stared out the window the whole time and Anson tried to think of ways to get her to talk to him. The story of what happened to this girl in Boston was a mystery to everyone other than the person sitting beside him. In her file it told of a girl sent away by her Watcher to Sunnydale to take part in the fight against the First but the woman who wrote the file, Miss. Rosenberg, made it clear that she didn't believe Billie's story.

When chosen to look over Billie in Cleveland, Anson was told by Giles to get the real story. Being a Slayer for years, traveling the world to pick up other girls, no one had ever seen Billie even try to contact her Watcher from Boston. Giles seemed determined to find as much as he could about this girl. Anson had to get her to talk, it was his first job as a Watcher and he couldn't fail. And he wouldn't. She might have shot him down once but that wasn't the end of it.

It had taken all of Anson's courage to ask Billie and that was a big accomplishment for the man who had doubted himself to sleep the night before. The blow she'd dealt him in response to his question set him back, but only a bit. Anson knew that to get through to this girl it would mean withstanding such a blow, with more following. He was going to have to build up his resistance for the next time he confronted her. He was already preparing, but he knew that there was a long road before him.

Quite the opposite of the one he was turning off now.

Dwelling on his own thought, Anson hadn't even realized where he was but sure enough he and his passenger were exactly where they should've been. A parking garage. Nothing special, certainly not one Anson was particularly happy to see,just a parking garage. Unfortunately, it was what the garage held that made him nervous.

Parking the van and turning off the engine, Anson turned to Billie. "You ready to do this?"

Unbuckling her seat belt. the girl shrugged and said, "It's my job."

Anson nodded. "Yes, it is."

As soon as Billie opened the door the hands were on her. They pulled her out and threw her into a nearby trash can, tipping it over. Jumping back onto her feet, the Slayer looked at her attacker. Walking toward her was a vampire. Tall and built, his shadow reached Billie, covering her. Even as he shortened the distance between them, she stood her ground, in a traditional fighter's stance.

From his spot at the car, Anson saw Billie as calm as the winds in Savannah. She striked the vampire with her right fist, grabbed it's head, and ran it into her knee, ans threw it away from her. Using the legendary Slayer speed, the girl dashed for the bag she'd dropped when she was thrown out of the car. Before her hands grabbed the bag, the vampire had his arms around Billie's chest. The Slayer met this with a headbutt, loosening the vampire's grip on her so that she could break free and lift her left leg to violently make contact with it's neck. The vampire hit the ground hard and Billie launched herself into a cartwheel, her right hand landing on top of her canvas tote bag. By the time Billie landed on her feet again, Anson saw a wooden stake in her hand.

Anson was frozen to the spot, intrigued by the scene unfolding before him. Barely able to breath, the Watcher hoped his Slayer would not be needing his assistance. Seeing her, he doubted she would.

Without waiting for the vampire to attack her, Billie ran toward him, her weapon held high. As her left hand grabbed hold of it's arm, the right plunged the stake into her undead enemy.

The vampire staggered back staring at the wooden object sticking out of his chest. Anson watched the things face which changed from surprise to anger to pain to fear to amusement. The smile that crept upon it's features sent shivers down Anson's spine; Billie had missed the heart. The plunged stake had not hit it's unbeating target, and though it would hurt like hell, a vampire would not die. "Stupid Slayer," it's voice boomed, "You can't even find my heart."

Before the vampire could pull the stake from his chest, Billie was behind him. In one hand was a nine inch dagger, the other grabbed his face. "I didn't want to. Just needed to hear something." The girl put the dagger at the vampire's throat and pulled it toward her. The creature turned to dust before the decapitated head fell from it's position.

As the vampire disintegrated into dust, Anson found himself able to move once more. He stumbled out from behind the car, holding the hood for balance. "Wow, Billie, I mean," he started, his voice as shaky as his legs. "That was incredible. I've never seen a Slayer fight before, at least not in an uncontrolled environment with a real vampire."

Before another world could leave his lips, Billie ran to him. Her hand was around his neck, pushing him down onto the hood of the car. Air went in and out of his lungs harshly, causing a pain from his chest to his throat. He was experiencing that Slayer strength first hand and could no longer see the beauty in her movements. Now she was just inflicting pain, that was it.

She spoke through clenched teeth, "I'm glad you enjoyed it. But news flash: this isn't a show, it's my _life_." Billie's fury radiated from her eyes, making Anson incapable of speaking. More words spewed from the woman, "Was that a test? You wanted to see me fight before you wasted anymore time on me?"

Anson could feel his voice becoming more shallow and darkness threatened his vision. Fighting to stay conscious, a curse exploded in his head as the Slayer slammed him into the hood again. "Answer me!"

In an answer more air than voice, he said, "I can't."

Making no attempt at hiding her anger, Billie let go of Anson and backed away. He stood, holding his throat and coughing, filling his lungs as gently as he could. It still hurt to breath but Anson was afraid that if he didn't speak Billie wouldn't be as understanding as most and would not hold back the power she held in her body. "What are you talking about?" he squeaked out in a grainy voice, looking at her through the side of his eyes. The woman he saw was a distorted reflection of the one in the file, though the intensity was the same.

Hands folded across her, hip jutting out in annoyance, Billie stood with her jaw clenched tight. Regretfully unclenching, she answered the man who glared at her in anger, "Did you get that vampire to attack me so you could see me at work? Is that what you meant by 'Time for work'? Answer me, now."

Anson lost the anger in his face, replacing it with confusion. "How? Why would you even think so? No, of course not."

"Well, then why did he attack me at eleven o'clock in the morning? And how, oh how, did he know I was a Slayer?"

"I have no idea why he attacked you. Maybe he was trapped here by sunrise and saw you as an early lunch," Anson shrugged, leaning on his car.

Billie met his answer with a heavy sigh and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "And knowing me as a Slayer?"

Dragging his hand through his blonde hair, Anson said, "If they know you're here, then it's already too late."

She looked at him, her eyebrow raised in a question. For the first time since the met the night before, the Slayer before him looked confused and unsure of herself. Her voice cemented that idea, "What do you mean by that?"

"We're on the Hellmouth and we lost the upper-hand. Our surprise attack is lost. And you, more than anyone, should know that that puts us in some deep trouble."

"Well then," Billie stated, regaining the composure she had after the fight, "We'll just have to work a little harder to find another way." Looping a strand of hair behind her left ear, she added, "Won't we?"


	6. Dark Beauty

Everywhere she looked there were vampires bowing down to her. She had to admit it to herself, she liked the way it felt. Raven smiled at the legions of demons who would lay down their lives for her, it was every woman's fantasy.

As Raven lifted her hands in the air the vampire's voices rose in chants. _Latin_, she thought bitterly, _a dead language for a dead people_. All she could understand was "death", "rise", "win", and the most important one of all "Slayer". Her brow furrowed at the sound of the word. No matter how many times she heard it, no matter what language it was, Raven's mind could not wrap around it. A Slayer was here. And this wasn't just any Slayer, this particular Slayer had haunted her dreams all of Raven's lifetime. Simply because the lifetime only spanned four years made no difference to the Dark Beauty. The Slayer would suffer and die at her hands, there was no doubt about that.

Raven's fists were clenched, her arms down at her side, and blood was dripping from her palms where her finger nails had cut into her flesh and she realized the chanting had silenced. Letting her eyes wander from one side of the room to the other, the woman surveyed the hand she had been dealt.

A dark, abandoned hospital basement. The floors above were used for illegal transactions, meals for her followers, but the basement was unused. Pipes were exposed, water dripped from every surface, wrought iron pillars held grafitti art, and there were no windows. The dank space was new for one such as Raven, but after what she'd done to establish her power to these leeches there would be no way she'd loose them to something as trivial as sunlight. If darkness was what they craved, darkness is what they'd get.

"Loyal servants," she shouted to the depths of the basement, "you have all been chosen to make history the best way vampires can. Taking a deep, proud breath, "We are going to kill the Slayer."

Cheers arose from all around her. Her dark maroon lips curled into a smile as she anticipated the blood flow that would come of the battle. A battle, of course there would be a battle. Raven had seen how this girl had worked for four years.

Every night she would see the Slayer face demons of all sorts and she would always come out on top. She was a fighter, but this time she would lose. Many had fought Raven and all had died in her path. Brave, scared; weak, strong they all fell in Raven's hands becuase of one thing. _Humanity_, she thought in disgust. _What a vile waste of space. _Humanity gave each warrior a moment's pause and that was all it took. A grim smile crossed Raven's face as memories started to flow back. Each more brutal and disturbing as the last. A moment's hesitation led to the end of that humanity.

The feeling that came with the images in her mind were yet to be matched. It bubbled up inside her until it erupted with a cackle that sounded over the cheers of her followers.

A sudden hush fell over her audience as her wicked laughter continued. The unholy sound echoed across the basement giving the illusion that Raven was everywhere. And yet she was no where because by the time the cheers died down Raven was gone.

It was a simple, human magic trick, one she had perfected over the years. No matter who the crowd, Raven could disappear at a moment's notice. Avert the eyes and ears of those around you, this time with the laugh that seemed to multiply and come out of every crevice of the room, then all you have to do is slip into the crowd silently and gracefully, emerging on the other side. An unlocked door was all she needed to complete the illusion. The trick left magic show-goers amused but kept the mystery surrounding Raven dense. It was just the thing she wanted.

Looking around, the Dark Beauty found herself in the hospital's boiler room. The room, which was approximately the size of a king sized bed, was even more dark and dank than the one that held the half breed vampires, all that lit the space was one bare light bulb Raven's fingers turned on as she entered the room. Though unused for a dozen years, the space was empty of the expected diseased rodents that roamed sewer-like environments. The creatures, just as the junkies on the floors aboves, had been taken care of some time ago, eaten as midday treats while the vampires were planted in their underground

_Yes_, Raven thought, _this room will do rather nicely_.

Dragging her long, claw-like finger across the wall, she imagined the fun she would have with the Vampire Slayer in a few short days right in this very room. The walls will no no longer be stripping of it's paint but covered in the blood of the "good". It will not smell like years of hard water and mildew, it will have the strongest scent of fear and pain. The sounds of the undead will be drowned out by her pleas for mercy. The Vampire Slayer would meet her demise only inches from where Raven now stood.

Another smile found it's way onto her face.

Finally the years of torment would be over. Raven would be able to rest peacefully knowing that she was the cause of this Chosen One's gruesome end, no longer will she cause pain to any one else's psyche and Raven could go back to hunting and killing. It was the waiting and dreaming that had haunted her for these fours years. It was her only hope that the girl would put up a fight so that every moment of torture Raven had endured would be reflected back onto it's causer. Unfortunately, this Slayer had proved to be quite unpredictable. She may, in fact, give up all resistance as soon as she laid eyes on Raven as she swooped in to begin what she dan only hope to be a person's worst nightmare just as many other opponents had. Though Raven found that to be highly unlikely.

Suddenly, Raven's head jerked back and a burning sensation filled her chest. Gasping for air, she tried to grab onto the stone wall beside her, leaving indentations where her fingers grappled. Then, as quickly as it had started, it was over.

Though it had happened a hundred times before and lasted only seconds, Raven needed to lean against the wall in order to regain her composure. Taking in deep breaths, that made no difference to her in the long run, the Dark Beauty simmered in loathing.

The vampire she had sent to locate the Slayer would not be returning with the information. He was dead. The Slayer had killed him, like so many before him. But luckily her winning streak was soon going to run out. Raven could only dream of the day this girl took no more vampires but, instead, took in her own last breath.


	7. Pity

With each passing tree, Kali seemed to miss her home that much more, even though it seemed impossible. This country was so different from her own, so much dirtier, that Kali was starting to think the Philippines was paradise. _You never know what you had until it's gone_, she thought as another tree, covered in graffiti zoomed by. _But_, she continued with a smile, _it'll all be worth it._

_I hope._

Looking at the photo she held in her hand, Kali felt a surge of trust and purpose along with an underlining emotion she cared not to think about. The girl in the photo reminded her of herself, young and confused yet strong and determined. The girl's eyes told the fear Kali felt at the moment. Who knew what would happen when she stepped off that bus? Closing her eyes, facing the window again, the sixteen year old bit her lip, demanding the terror away.

Even with her eyes closed and though the seat barely moved, Kali knew that right in front of her Gina had turned around. Swallowing the justified fear that threatened to boil over, the girl opened her chocolate brown eyes and there she was hanging over the back of the seat in front of her. Gina, her golden hair pulled up into a ponytail (curls still cascading around her face no matter what she tried), the girl Kali had known and come to love in this past year. Yet, at this moment, she wasn't exactly the person she wanted to talk to. _Neither was anyone else, though, _she reasoned to herself.

Gina was a problem solver by nature and though Kali had become closer to her than any other since she left home, she knew there would be no solution and all efforts to find it would be futile. Unfortunately, Gina wasn't a hint taker unless you spelled it out to her in plain English. Kali was not the girl for that job.

"So, you're still studying that picture?" She asked, ignoring Kali's brooding eyes.

Instead of being rude to her friend, she nodded and sandwiched the picture between her palms. Slowly, she answered, "Her face? I want to know it."

Though Kali had been studying English for over a year now, she was still having trouble fully grasping it. That was the trouble with knowing only one language for fifteen years then being thrown into a world where English was meant to be "universal". She could understand it when others spoke it and read quite fluently, but her speech was flawed. Luckily, Gina was patient, supportive, and understanding, she was also Kali's prime tutor. Her British accent mde words slightly easier and more respectful, untainted with the slang of the Americans.

Reaching over her seat, Gina pulled the photo from Kali's hand and surveyed it as Kali's eyes drifted back to the window. The cars that passed in colorful blurs created a nice distraction to the words that came from her friend. "Just so you're not surprised, she won't look like this anymore. This was what? Five years ago or something? She could've shaved her head or gained a massive amount of weight or gotten glasses or, more likely, scars of some sort." Gina laughed at herself for her keen insight. But all the "insight" and laughter did was harm Kali's psyche further.

_Apparently_, she thought, _fifteen months does nothing to prepare one for this_. And quietly, under her breath, a swear from her native Philippines slipped out. Normally, Kali's tongue was swear free but this fear was doing something to her and the curse was just something that needed to be said.

Kali did forget who she was sitting before her. Gina James, fluent in three languages, Spanish being one of them. Her eyes bugged out at her "innocent" friend's slip and she let a gasp escape her mouth before she reprimanded Kali's choice of words. "Kali Morales! What? Did you just say... that?!"

While Gina stumbled over her words, Kali found some in her beloved family's language. "I'm upset, okay? Please don't make a big thing of it."

After another few seconds, the British girl was able to close her mouth and discovered her voice again also in another language, much to Kali's graciousness. _A little privacy goes a long way_, she thought. "Kali," Gina started, grabbing her friend's hand to comfort her. "It's going to be fine. Four years! She's been doing this for four years, she knows what she's doing." Gina handed back the photo for emphasize her pont. Then thought a second and added, in English, "So do we."

Kali let her lips smile in gratitude, silently thanking Gina for her bilingual words of comfort. Feeling a surge of strength, she slid the photo into her nap-sack, and out of sight. She no longer needed a piece of paper to show her what she could be and who she could become, all she needed was confidence. The kind that radiated off Gina and her kind, gentle words. Even if Gina would be the one trying to make her think it was all about her own self and nobody else. Nodding, she felt herself ease a bit and her friend let her hands go and slide back into her seat.

Letting a small sigh escape her, the teen closed her eyes in the hopes of some quick sleep before she had to step from the safety of the bus. That was a strange thought; a small, cramped, uncomfortable, metal box was safer than whatever was outside. And even still, Kali knew she could handle whatever that was. Just after a cat nap.

Gina found it easy to calm someone down when using their native tongue. _A little touch of home, I suppose. _That was the reason she thanked her parents for placing her in so many extra curricular activities, language classes included. They would all come in handy when she went for her PhD in psychiatry.

She sighed silently then, mourning the loss of her future. Pushing one of her loose curls behind her ear, Gina looked out the window, mimicking Kali as she'd found her just minutes ago.

Watching the trees rush by the buss, getting a little nauseated as she did, the fifteen year old could only guess at what she was feeling towards the way turn her life had taken. From upstanding, near-genius teenager to Slayer in only a handful of months, she still wasn't sure what the right emotion to feel was. _Pity? _she guessed. Pity for the world she left behind. They'd never understand what kind of world they were actually a part of. And pity for herself for never being able to go back to that ignorance. _Pity_. That sounded as good a feeling as any.

Gina wasn't angry when Mr. Harris come to her school in the guise of an American military man to recruit her. Nor had she been scared. Sure, the eye patch did make him a little intimidating but other than that, he'd calmed her and made her understand not what she was leaving behind but what she was joining. "A band of brothers," he'd said, then corrected himself, "Sisters!" Stumbling an apology to all womankind via Gina, he explained what QB had done for them all.

And yet, could there ever be total acceptance?

Of course not. As a teenage girl with all the whacked hormones of said girl, the news was a little less than welcomed. But how could it be shunned? Gina did notice her strengths and unheard of skills. That was another fact that couldn't be shrugged off.

When Gina was twelve she tutored often after school from grade schoolers to high school aged delinquents. Once while tutoring one boy in her class, she had to fight off advances of the prepubescent boy and his older brother. She did not scream or cry or beg, she merely thrust her arm forward. The punch landed and broke the boy's two front teeth, he then fell back into his brother who knock over a book shelf. He needed nine stiches. But those injuries counted for little when compared to the unadulterated shock that held Gina to the same spot until her parents were phoned by the police.

From that day on, that was her life. Moments of violence, banned from the James' house, to jolts of shock that routed Gina wherever she was.

And now to be followed by pity. _Perhaps_, she wondered, _pity will just take over completely and I'll never be shocked again. Just numb._

That time was drawing nearer. For her, her family, the boy, all the Slayers... _This life, _she thought still staring out the window, _pity_.

The bus stopped suddenly and a low hissed came from the rear. Kali caught the reflection of her sister-Slayer in front of her in the window. It could've been herself in the glass: the fear, the uncertainty, the anger. They were all rolling together into one. One that they were both feeling, together.


End file.
